Chasing Cars
by Dreamwind1
Summary: Harry/Steve/Danny -SLASH- A Curse. A Death and the red thread of fate that binds them together.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Untitled**  
**Author: **dreamwind83  
**Beta:**  
**Pairing:** Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams/Harry Potter  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** Season 1 of H50  
**Warnings:**  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any version of the Harry Potter series or the Hawaii Five-O (2010) series. I make no profit from this work of fiction.  
**Author's Notes:** Crossover with Harry Potter books. Not compliant with the Epilogue from DH. Takes place during Season 1 of Hawaii Five-0 2010. This is just a teaser of another crossover fic I am working on. It has no title as of yet and will not be updated for a while as I plan to keep focused on my other fics first.

**Summary:** A Curse. A Death and the red thread of fate binds them together.  
**Timeline Info: **Post DH but prior to the Epilogue. Season 1 of H50 starting around episode 1.01

**Chapter 1**

**August 2009; Southampton, England **

Harry hated going to the docks. But this morning he especially hated it. The fog was thick and cold this morning leaving everything damp and partially hidden. It was mornings like this when he was still half asleep from a long days work the day before and a night spent with a squalling baby, that made getting up and going to the docks on a stake-out a bloody pain. No matter how tried and pissy he was this was his job and he took it seriously. He had spent almost four years tracking the arms dealers known as Victor and Anton Hesse. He had been tracking almost since he had finished Auror training, in fact.

The two were on her Majesty's most wanted list for selling weapons to known terrorists, both magical and muggle. Because of the fact they were Wizards as well, Harry had been asked to track them down and capture them by any means necessary. The Queen herself had even advised that she would prefer them to be given the Kiss if they were captured alive. While the Queen did not approve of the use of Dementors as prison guards and did not normally approve of their Kiss being used as a means of execution, the two brothers had killed many of her Majesty's best officers and they had no problem with killing innocent civilians as a means of distraction, either. Something that both Harry and the Queen found beyond the pale.

So that was why Harry was here on a day he would rather be sleeping in. He had had to use polyjuice for the last two months, so that his presence at the docks wasn't going to be noticed by Hesse or his goons. He had gotten close before but had been spotted and the two arms dealers had managed to get away. Harry wasn't going to let that happen again. He had spent too much time trying to catch these two and the man they were working for. He was tired of the chase and just wanted off the case so that he could have a normal case load and go home at night at a decent hour. If he could catch them he could get all the information he need from their minds or through the use of Veritaserum and then that information could be turned over to the Royal Task Force assigned to tracking and catching the man they worked for, a man that had been simply a ghost in the underworld until a year ago. Harry's informant had died to bring Harry the name Wo Fat.

Letting out a grumbled curse of discontent at the fog, Harry, known at the docks as Mike McHughe, tugged at the collar of his wool coat and headed towards the bulletin board where the day's jobs were posted. He should be listed to help load freight onto the ship that the Hesse brother's were using to ship guns and explosives into the United States. If all worked as planned he would locate the cash of weapons, both muggle and magical, and be able to get his message out to the rest of the Task Force before Victor or Anton figured out they had been made.

"Morn'in, McHughe," called another man stationed by the board, looking over the list of ships in port and the open jobs.

"Morn'in. Anything good left today?" Harry stepped up beside the man, scanning the board.

The older man, one Harry had seen at the docks every day so far, let out a loud bark of a laugh. "There ain't never anything good open."

"True 'nuff." Harry ran his finger over the damp paper, stopping over the name of The Albatross. The ship that Hesse was using to carry his weapons out of the UK and into the US. "This one don' sound too bad."

The other dock worker looked at the notice. "The Albatross? Cursed ship that one. You'd be betta off picking a different ship, lad."

"Cursed," asked Harry, trying to sound both skeptical and slightly frightened.

"Aye. It might leave wit a full crew but it neva comes back wit em. Half the crew is missin' every time it returns ta port."

"Could'a they just be getting off at the other end and join'n another crew?"

"Could be." The older man took a deep drag on his cigarett, puffing out a ring of thick white smoke. "I'da not take the chance. There be somethan' evil hovering about that ship."

Harry and the older man both turned to look through the fog down to where the Albatross was moored. The Albatross was a monster of a tanker. It was a large, imposing, steal ship that looked as if it had sailed right out of a movie about the turn of the century. The fog around it certainly helped with the eerie aura that seemed to hang about the ship. Harry wasn't fooled or scared by it though. He knew that it was nothing more than a spell meant to keep away Muggles and people the Captain didn't want getting close. It would also make sure that any dock workers they had to let onboard would be so on edge that they wouldn't notice the signs of all the illegal activity going on onboard. It was quite an impressive bit of spellwork.

Harry let his body shiver in response to the sight in case anyone working for Hesse was watching them. "May hap you're right. She's a spooky lady for sure."

"Aye." Harry watched the old man shiver and turn away from the ship, making the sign of the cross as he did so. Turning back to face the ship again Harry couldn't help but shiver, only this time it was in anticipation. He was so close now. Victor and Anton were almost in his grasp. Another few hours and it would all be over, once and for all.

Harry had continued to play the spooked man, crossing himself whenever he was passing the ship and quickly looking away from it, as if the very sight of it was somehow sure to do him harm. He wasn't sure if this would be the right approach in order to get chosen to help load the ship, but it was the best option. He was hardly the only dock worker crossing himself so.

"McHughe!"

Harry stopped what he was doing and turned to look at one of the men in charge of assigning work details. Harry didn't like Connell Norris. He had suspicions that the man was dirty and turning a blind eye on any illegal dealings going on under his watch for a percentage of the profits.

Setting his load down he walked over to the other man who was watching him with an unimpressed look. Harry couldn't care less and McHughe gave him the stink eye. Everyone at the pier knew how much the two seemed to dislike each other. Harry having gotten into one hell of a row with him only the week before, claiming that Norris was purposefully preventing him from getting any decent hours.

"What?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the weasel-like little man.

"I gotta job for you."

"Well, goodie. What is it?"

Norris glared and for a moment Harry thought he might try and hit him. Which would be rather amusing since in his current disguise, Harry was almost twice Norris' size. "The Captain of the Albatross needs an extra hand loading the last of her cargo. Go see the first mate and get things loaded. That ship needs to be outta port on time. So don't be lazzin' about."

Harry rolled his eyes, glared at the ship in question and made a motion as if he was going to make the sign of the cross but thought better of it. His persona wouldn't want Norris to think him easily spooked off a job. That was after all why Norris would have assigned him to this ship today. "Fine."

Turning and stalking off Harry fought to contain his glee. Everything was in motion now. Shoving his hands in his pockets as he trudged over to the ship, Harry keyed in his code on the magical coin that would notify the rest of the Royal Task Force that he was getting into position on the ship. Harry would still have to send out a final confirmation before they could raid the ship, but this way his backup would be primed to go.

The First Mate was an easy man to find, seeing as he had been standing around by the ship all day, yelling at the crew to keep working. After a short round of yelling on the First Mate's part, Harry was assigned to help load the smaller cargo from the containers and into the special freezer compartment onboard. Harry didn't expect it to be much more than the crew's food and maybe some extra food being shipped overseas. Nothing that they would worry about him seeing. The "special" cargo would only be handled by the men of the crew that Hesse would trust or had threatened with death.

For another hour Harry worked quietly under the watchful eyes of the First Mate, before the man seemed convinced that Harry found the ship haunted enough not to wonder off. Eventually the man walked off, happy to go yell some more at his full time crew. Harry waited another twenty minutes before pulling out the small marble that he had charmed to create an illusion of his polyjuiced self working. It was a great bit of magic that Fred and George had come up with a few years ago to try and get out of babysitting duty. The marble monitored his movements and would replay them as an illusion for another hour before the spell cancelled out. It should give him more than enough time to explore the hold of the ship.

Ducking into a small closet, Harry waited for the last of the polyjuice to wear off before shifting into his animagus form. It wasn't perfect for this, as ocelots weren't native to the UK let alone the docks. He just hoped that if anyone saw him they might think him a rather large stray. The form of a normal house cat would have worked better but this would do well for now. His smaller size would allow him to use the air vents on the ship to sneak from room to room with as little notice as possible.

Taking a moment to rise his nose in the air, open his mouth and take a deep breath, Harry let himself relax into the new animal senses. His sense of smell wasn't as good as a canines but his night vision was much better. Of course the soft pads on his feet helped as well, allowing him to move almost silently through the ship.

Harry had to pause on three different occasions as he heard someone approach where he was. He didn't want to risk anyone hearing him and going for a closer look, as the vents were not large enough for him to change back into human form so that he could stun someone. He always waited for a count of twenty before continuing on after one of these close calls, so it took a little longer than he'd hoped to find the cargo he was looking for, but he still had enough time to get back before his illusion ended.

Taking another longer breath to try and scent out any hidden dangers, Harry slowly stepped out of the grate, allowing his body to shift back into his normal human form. Glancing around the dimly lit room Harry pulled out a small flashlight and began to open some of the larger crates, taking care to note each item he could see, even if he didn't recognize it. There had to be near forty large crates filled with semi-automatic rifles, handguns, and more that looked like they must be military issue. He had only opened the first crate that held anything magical, a crate filled with nearly a hundred Banshee Bombs, when he heard the sound of an amused voice coming from behind him.

"Well, now. I knew you couldn't resist coming to see my pretties, Potter."

Victor Hesse stepped out of the shadowed corner of the room and Harry silently cursed. He had no idea how longer Hesse had been in the room but it had obviously been long enough.

"They're mighty pretty, don't you think," Hesse asked picking up one of the Banshee Bombs. It was quite pretty in fact, looking like nothing more than a glass ornament meant for a Christmas tree, but without the hook. Small runes were inlaid in gold along the center of the bomb, just where a finger could run over the runes activating the bomb in seconds.

"Hesse," growled Harry.

Victor arched a brow and smirked at Harry, seemingly unafraid of the wand pointed at him. "I must admit that I find it rather pleasing that of all the wizard's sent to kill me the Queen chose The Master of Death."

"I'm not here to kill you, Hesse. I'm here to take you into custody." Harry narrowed his eyes, not liking how calm Victor was. He should be at least slightly worried to have a wand as dangerous as Harry's pointed at him.

Victor started laughing, his smile growing wider by the minute. "Such a good little Auror, aren't you?"

"Victor Hesse. You are under arrest for dealing in illegal arms, for consorting with known terrorists, breaking the statute of secrecy, for multiple acts of treason and-"

Victor stepped forward into Harry's space, pressing the tip of Harry's wand against his chest. "I am afraid not, little kitten." Hesse smirked and leaned down until he could whisper into Harry's ear. "Boom."

Harry jerked back but not in time to stop the force of the blasting curse from sending him flying across the room, his body crumpling against the steel wall and heavy wood of the crates. He could feel something in his chest snap and gasped, his fingers going momentarily limp. His wand dropped out of his fingers, vanishing into the hidden holster.

The clack of Hesse's boots against the metal floor brought Harry's attention back to the dangerous man in the room with him. Gasping, Harry tried to stand only to collapse back to the ground as his legs gave out beneath him. Cursing his inattention Harry silently began to unweave the nonverbal spell Hesse must have cast almost on top of the blasting curse.

"I was expecting more from the famous Harry Potter. It's a bit disappointing how easy this has been." Hesse gave Harry a rather put upon look and dropped to his knees in front of Harry. "I was hoping for so much more, but I suppose I shall have to find a new way to play with you, pretty kitty."

Harry flinched as Hesse ran his fingers gently down the side of his cheek, cupping it in his palm. Their eyes locked and Harry was suddenly grateful that he had finally learned how to protect his mind. Hesse licked his lips and leaned in as if he was going to kiss him, only to stop a breath away from Harry's own lips.

"_Subsisto in Cattus_,1" he breathed the words against Harry's lips, the pulse of the magic forcing the transformation before Harry could react.

Harry hissed as his body contorted and shrunk down into his animagus form. Towering over him, Hesse grinned wickedly down at Harry. Harry felt the hair on his back stand on end, his lips pulling back in a snarl as Hesse grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. Snarling, Harry swiped out a paw, aiming at Hesse's eyes with his sharp claws.

"Aw…Is my pretty kitty angry?"

Harry twisted in Hesse's hand, trying to get loose so that he could escape back to the safety of his team. If he didn't get free Hesse would get away and this whole bloody operation would all be for nothing. Harry yowled and kicked his back legs up, claws digging into Hesse's arms, drawing blood. The primal part of Harry crowed with glee at the sight and smell of his prey's blood.

Hesse cursed and shook Harry, which only caused Harry to dig his claws in deeper. "Little monster." Hesse smacked his wand against Harry's temple, the pulse of the stunner flooding through Harry, making his fur stand on end even as his body went limp.

**September 2010; Honolulu, Hawaii **

Harry had been trapped in his animagus form for almost a year now and every day he found a new reason to loath Victor Hesse. The Albatross had left England and Harry had been unable to stop it. Hesse had taken great joy in spelling on a collar to Harry that kept him trapped in his animal form, unable to talk, unable to use his magic. It left him vulnerable and unable to contact his team in England, or the contact he had in Hawaii to warn him of Hesse's arrival. The ship had gone from place to place dropping off weapons and picking up more. Occasionally Hesse would leave the ship to go terrorize some poor innocents, killing and torturing his way around the world. Harry could see the excitement in his face when he left and the pleasure in its place on his return.

Trapped in the small cage in Hesse's cabin when he was gone, Harry nearly starved on three separate occasions when the crew member assigned to feed him decided not to. Hesse had beaten the man after each occasion but that hadn't deterred the crewman. He, like Hesse, was a sadist. He seemed to derive a great deal of sexual pleasure from watching Harry's pain. In some occasions he had even put a bit of poison in the food to watch Harry's body twist and shake, his fur fall off in clumps, and blood run out his nose as Harry tried to survive a bit longer. After a while he had simply just stopped eating when Hesse left. He didn't trust the crew and he would rather starve than be poisoned again.

Now that they were docked in Honolulu, Harry was being extra careful. He needed to escape before Hesse arrived in another two days. He had to find a way to get to McGarrett and get him the information he needed about Hesse and WoFat. Too much was at stake and he had already been held captive too long. More people had died because he had been too cocky in his plan to get in, get the proof needed and get his back up onboard. He couldn't risk Hesse getting here and taking out McGarrett. He was the only trustworthy contact Harry had on Oahu and WoFat spent a large amount of time here recently building stronger contacts with the local Yakuza.

So Harry waited. Hesse had been of the ship for twenty minutes already and Harry knew from long experience now, that the crewman who Victor assigned to feed him would be sneaking into Hesse little office where he stashed Harry. The man couldn't stay away from him if Hesse wasn't onboard. It was like the man was compelled to seek him out and torture him. Harry often wondered if the man was actually under a compulsion spell to do just that. Harry wouldn't put it past Anton or Victor to curse one of the crewmen to torture Harry in their absence.

Harry paced his cage and waited. The man would come soon and this time Harry wouldn't cower back against the wall. This time he would make sure the man bled beneath his claws and when the man was down Harry would escape this floating Hell. He would escape and get to John and find a way to convince the man of who he was and the danger he was in.

So he waited. And waited. And waited.

And then the creek of the metal door scraping against the metal floor echoed through the small room, making Harry's sensitive ears throb and lay flat against his head. Harry hissed at the man, his nose wrinkling at the rancid odor coming off the man. As always he was unshaven and smelled as if he hadn't washed in a week. His eyes were red rimmed and Harry knew that he would be able to smell the whisky on the man's breath if he got close enough. Still despite how badly he wanted to cringe away from the man, he didn't. He crouched in the corner pretending to be scared and waited for the man to reach inside for him. That was when the man would be the easiest to attack. But still he would need to wait, just long enough for the man to pull him out of the cage. Once outside his chance to escape before the man could damage him further increased.

"Hello, wee little puss." The man leered through the bars of the cage at Harry, making Harry's fur stand on end. Laughing he thrust out his hand, knocking it against the metal bars hard enough to shake the cage. Harry hissed and jumped making the man smiled even wider, showing off a mouth of yellowed teeth. "Ah, does my wee pussy not wan' ta play? We canna be havin' that now, puss."

Harry hissed again and gave a quick swipe of his claws at the man before allowing his body to cower further into the corner of the cage.

"Now don' be like that, mah sweet little puss."

Thrusting his arm inside the small door, movements startlingly fast, he grabbed Harry by the front paw, barley snarling when Harry sunk his fangs into the flesh of his arm. Harry growled around the flesh and the blood filed his mouth and that he wanted to find as rancid as the smell of the man. The man screamed louder than Harry thought possible, dropping his hold on Harry's paw and trying to jerk his hand out of the cage.

Harry cursed himself as he realized he may have just ruined any chance to escape. All he could do now was lock his jaws on the man's tender flesh and try and wrap his paws around the mans arm, digging in his claws and hope that the man would pull Harry out of the cage along with his arm.

"Bloody fuck," screamed the man, trying to fling Harry off his now shredded arm. The man gave another violent shake of his arm, finally dislodging Harry, flinging Harry across the small room to crash against the wall.

Shaken, Harry lay on the floor, his heart pounding in his chest, blood dripping from his nose as he watched the man stumble towards the desk and the gun Hesse had stashed in it. Trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart Harry took a moment, watching the man before pushing up onto unsteady feet. Darting his gaze around the room Harry noticed and rusted hole in one wall at ground level, hidden by the bed Hesse used when he was onboard. Looking back over at the man who was jerking the drawer with the gun open Harry decided that whatever was beyond that hole had to be better than waiting here for the unwashed arse to shoot him.

Running for the bed, he slipped under the bunk and crawled to the hole, squeezing through the sharp, rusted opening. Harry cursed as he felt the sharp edges of the metal leave cuts along his ribs as he squeezed through to the room beyond.

Pausing to look around the room he cursed as he realized it was almost identical to the room he had just escaped. Hearing the angry screams in Hesse's room, Harry jumped up onto the desk and flung himself at the metal shelves welded to the wall. His paws and chest hit the edge of the shelf and his back legs scrambled to find purchase so that he could pull himself up. Finally one of his back feet found a chink in the metal he could use to push himself up onto the shelf. Laying across the dusty surface, Harry just panted. He couldn't let himself rest long though because he could hear the other man in the room trying to yank the bed away from the wall to find where Harry had disappeared to. It wouldn't take him long to spot the hole in the wall and realize where Harry had gone, and Harry needed to be out of this room by then.

Trying to ignore the way his legs were shaking with adrenalin, Harry looked up above him to the open vent shaft. The room really was a mirror to the one he had been kept in.

Thinking again of John waiting on the island, in danger because Harry was stuck like this. Because Harry had failed to break free in time to warn him of the Hesse brother's plot. Of Wo Fat's plot to use them against John. The Hesse brother's were more than happy to work for Wo Fat on this mission even though there was a higher probability that one of them would die. They would get to kill Steve McGarrett, who like Harry, had been chasing them around the globe getting ever closer to catching them. Wo Fat would like it because he could kill off Steve McGarrett to hurt his father and then kill John. Or he could kill John off first and then let Anton kill John's son. Either way Wo Fat had two major threats to his operation taken out with one smooth stroke.

Harry couldn't allow that.

Jumping up Harry clawed and crawled up into the vent and to freedom. Smirking as best an ocelot could as he heard the angry shouting from the crewman as he barged into what was likely Anton's room only to find Harry gone.

**John McGarrett's House; Oahu, Hawaii **

Harry had escaped finally from The Albatross and the prison that Hesse had created for him only to know a brief taste of freedom. Three hours later and Harry had finally made it to John's house after hitching a ride in the back of a truck filled with surfboards, only to find that Victor had beat him there. Harry charged the man and managed to slash his claws down over Victor's face, hopefully blinding him in one eye, before Victor managed to throw Harry off him. Harry's body crashed into a shelf covered in photos and old trophies.

Victor pressed his gun against John's temple, glaring at Harry. "Try it again, Potter and I won't wait to kill him until little Stevie can hear him die."

Harry hissed at Victor and tried not to let his enemy see how badly hurt he really was. His ribs were aching and Harry was starting to think he might have broken one of them in that last fall.

"Potter," asked John, confused as he looked up at Hesse and then over to where Harry was struggling to stand back up. "No…"

"Oh, yes." Hesse smirked. "Etienne, tie up Potter. I want him to watch this and know that he failed to stop me from killing one of his own. Again."

John's eyes widened and Harry saw the realization come over him that the wild feline sprawled, bloody, over his family memories, was one of his contacts. A man that John might have even considered a friend.

Harry snarled at Etienne, but allowed the man to bind him. Harry glared at the rope tying him to the table leg. There was no magic in it, but Etienne knew what he was doing. The rope was tied tight, digging into his fur and flesh. Harry jerked back feeling the rope go taunt. Slumping, Harry looked over at John, his eyes filled with grief. He was failing! He hadn't made it here in time to warn John about Anton's capture in Pohang, South Korea being a trap orchestrated by Wo Fat as a way to kill off both McGarrett men. He hadn't been able to warn him that Victor was on the island after him, and now John was going to be killed in front of him. John was going to die while his son listened before he too was killed because Harry had failed.

Victor smirked at the defeated look on Potter's face. John McGarrett and bound him to a chair in his own house and soon Anton would be free and Steve McGarrett would be dead as well. Victor picked up John's cell phone from the desk where Etienne had set up his laptop. Pressing the phone to Jack's ear, gun still pressed against his temple, Victor quietly ordered him to talk. John was beaten badly, one eye already blackening and swelling up, his lip slip and a long bleeding gash stretching over his cheek. More blood was dripping down his neck from another gash along his temple just above his right ear. He knew, like Harry knew that he wasn't going to survive this encounter. Hesse would kill him. All he could do was try to buy some time for his son to escape or kill Anton Hesse. If he was lucky, Harry would stop letting his guilt hold him captive more securely than Hesse's ropes.

"**Dad?"**

John swallowed hard. How long had it been since he had heard his son's voice? Had Steve's voice even broke yet? "Hey, Champ."

"**You all right,"** Steve's voice was stressed with emotion and John felt a little less angry at himself hearing the concern in his son's voice.

Hesse pressed the tip of his gun harder into John's temple, hard enough that John was sure there would be a bruise left behind.

"Who are these people, Steve?" He meant to ask who are they to you? Why do men like the Hesse brother's know his son, hate his son enough to do this?

Victor pulled the cell away from John's ear, his smirk growing wider as he looked over at Harry who had started to struggle against his bonds. "Now I know where you get it from. You got a tough old man here. Steve, we both have something to lose here. So listen to me very carefully. I'm offering you a trade. Your father for my brother. All things considered, I'd say it's more than generous. Wouldn't you?"

"**You're smart enough to know that'll never happen." **

Hesse laughed. "I appreciate the compliment. Are you smart enough?"

Hesse looked over to his companion who was sitting at the desk working on his laptop waving for Hesse to keep talking as he tried to pinpoint Steve's location.

"**Come on, Victor. You know how this works. We don't negotiate with terrorists."**

"Make an exception."

Etienne lifted up a radio and quickly started to talk while watching the screen of the laptop zero in on the prison transport. "Ghost to One. I've triangulated the cell signal. The convoy is ten miles west of your position."

Harry hissed as he realized they must to co-coordinating an air strike on the convoy that had Anton and Steve in it. Seeing that tugging and twisting wildly was doing nothing to help free him, Harry instead decided to try chewing through the rope.

"**I'm not gonna negotiate like this."**

"Oh, are we negotiating now," teased Victor.

"**You kill him, you get nothing."**

Joh looked away from Harry and back to Victor. "Give me the phone, please. I can get him to help you." John took a deep gasping breath as his lungs burned and his ribs throbbed against his bindings. He had to tell Steve…to warn his son about the coming attack. About Wo Fat and the truth about his Mother's car accident. "He'll listen to me, he's my son."

Hesse looked him over before putting the phone back to John's ear with a look that clearly stated he doesn't believe that whatever John will say will sway his son. Victor probably knew Steve McGarrett as well, if not better than John did.

"Listen to me, Champ."

"**Dad,"** Steve interrupted. **"I'm gonna get you out of there, all right? Don't worry about it." **

John felt tears gather at the corner of his eyes at the sound of his son's voice. "I'm sorry that I lied to you."

"**What? Lied to me about what? What, Dad? What are you talking about,"** Steve asked obviously confused.

John knew that Steve would understand one day, if he came home. If he understood John's warning. "I love you, son. I didn't say it enough. Whatever these people want, Steve…don't give it to them. Don't you give it to them—"

Hesse cursed and yanked the phone away. Swinging his other hand around, Victor smashed the butt of his gun into John's face, almost knocking him, and the chair he was tied to, over.

"**Dad? Dad,"** Steve panicked voice echoed out from the phone.

"No more games," snarled Victor. "I'm taking my brother now."

"**I swear to God I will hunt you down and I will kill you."**

Harry dug his teeth deeper into the rope, feeling strands snapping beneath the pressure and sharp edges even as his ears picked up the sounds of explosions and gunfire coming from over the phone line. Hesse listened with an evil smile to the sound of chaos, knowing that everything was going according to plan. Anton was captured per Wo Fat's plan to lure Steve away from Victor long enough for Victor to get smuggled onto Oahu so that he could meet with Wo Fat and assassinate John McGarrett, who had gotten too close to tying the two of them together and to the Yakuza there in Oahu.

Suddenly the sound of chaos and fighting vanished and Harry realized the line must have disconnected. Victor grined down at John who was spitting blood now, a new bruise already starting to appear where Victor had struck him with his gun. Picking up the cell again, Victor dialed Steve's cell again. Anton should have killed the younger McGarrett by this point and called back.

"What happened," demanded Victor.

"**Victor, listen,"** came Steve's voice from the phone. John smiled as he realized that Steve was alive, which meant that Anton must be dead. He could died now knowing that Steve had taken out Anton Hesse, that he would live another day and hopefully longer.

"Put Anton on the phone." Victor paced in small circles at the long pause on the line. "My brother's dead. Isn't he?"

"**Victor, listen,"** tried Steve.

"Isn't he?" Another long pause filled the suddenly silent room and Victor glared at John, who looked up at him with resignation and acceptance. "Then so's your father."

Hesse raised the gun and glaring down at the older man, pulled the trigger, shooting John in the head, the force of the shot knocking John over. Snarling Victor threw the cell at the wall as the sound of sirens started to be heard in the distance, getting closer. Motioning to the other man at the desk, the two terrorists grabbed the laptop and their weapons and rushed out the back. In their rush they forget about Harry, still in his animal form, tied up and left on the top of a cluttered counter across from where John had been sitting. Harry had been forced to watch it all, guilt flooding him that he hadn't been able to get to John, to warn him in time to save the man's life.

Harry finally managed to eat through the last of the rope tying him to the table's leg. Stumbling, he fell to the floor, some of his own blood dripping from his bloodied nose onto the ground near John. Mewling piteously, Harry walked over to his friend and nuzzled him, ignoring how John's blood smeared across his face and stuck in the fur between his toes.

The sound of the sirens was almost on top of the house now and Harry realized he couldn't stay and be caught by the Police. He couldn't risk being taken away and sent to a zoo or animal sanctuary before he could find a way out of the collar and back to human form. He needed to get justice for John. So that he could catch Hesse and put him before a Dementor. Nuzzling John one last time he turned and ran out of the house through the open back door that Hesse and his partner had escaped through, bloody paw prints left staining the wooden floor.

**A Couple Days Later; John McGarrett's House**

Harry was back at the McGarrett house, hiding in the trees at the back, carefully watching the house for any sign of Hesse or one of WoFat's other men. He had tried to follow the two gun runners but had lost their trail after about four blocks. After loosing them he had hidden at the perimeter of the property, watching the police and CSI's coming and going from the house. For the first few hours the house had been mad with people coming and going, bagging and tagging anything that they could find, flashes of light from their cameras lighting up the evening sky well into dawn. Eventually they had all left, one by one, until the house was empty.

Harry had come back then. He had walked up to the glass doors and looked inside at the ruined remains of his friends home, at the blood staining the floor where he had fallen and over the walls behind where he had been sitting, tied to his own desk chair. He didn't know how long he had sat there, but eventually he had gotten up and walked over to one of the trees in the yard and climbed it, curling up in the branches to watch and to nap. Eventually John's son would come home and Harry hoped that he could finish what he started and help the man catch Victor Hesse. It had been with those thoughts, heavy on his mind, that Harry had drifted off to sleep.

Days later Harry woke and stretched into a large yawn, blinking down at the sight of a tall dark haired man slipping through the yard and under the Police tape. Blinking back a growl Harry carefully dropped out of the tree, silently following the man inside John's house. There was something familiar about him, but being trapped as an animal for so long was making it harder and harder to remember everything about his human life. There were hours and sometime days when he would forget who he had been, only to wake up later and remember.

Inside the house was dark and the scent of John's blood was still heavy in the air, settling like a noose around Harry's neck. Hiding in the shadows of the entryway, he watched the man walk over to the large lights the police had left behind. With a click and a soft buzz, the lights went on, flooding the room in sharp white light, highlighting the blood sprayed across several trophies and family photos. He could hear the sharp sound of the man's indrawn breath at the sight and suddenly Harry knew. He knows this man. Recognizes him from photos that John had shown him, from photos that the Royal Task Force had kept on file, and from countless surveillance photos of the man tracking the Hesse brothers across the globe. This was John's boy. Steve. Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett.

Harry remained still and silent, watching Steve walk through the crime scene, taking note of the blood spatter, knocked over books, bloody footprints and even the bloody paw prints that Harry himself had left behind. Harry's paw prints seemed to confuse Steve and Harry couldn't blame him. It wasn't something he was likely expecting to see. Still, Harry was impressed by how controlled John's son was. He was careful in not damaging any evidence that might not have been processed yet, measuring the size of the bloody footprint (and pawprints) by placing his own booted foot side-by-side and snapping a series of quick photos with his iPhone.

Harry was even more impressed as Steve noted the spot that had been cleared on the desk for the laptop used to track him down. Steve was obviously smarter than Harry had given him credit for, not that Harry had thought John's son was stupid. The man had been almost single handedly tracking Hesse and had almost caught him on two other occasions. If Harry could have gotten clearance for Steve to be brought into her Majesties Royal Task Force, he would have years ago. Then he realized how well Steve had profiled Victor Hesse and was even more upset that he couldn't get the man on his team. Outside Harry, no one else had gotten close to catching one of the Hesse brothers other than Steve. It was an impressive feat since Steve had no magic to use to help him in his pursuit.

Harry waited until Steve had turned away from the room, his eyes grim and heavy with a sight no son sound have to see. Keeping a careful watch on where Steve was, and trying not to leave any new bloody paw prints, Harry followed him into the garage, narrowly making it into the room before the door close behind him. Steve's attention was almost immediately focused on the large covered shape of John's Mercury Marquise. Harry had seen the car before, on one of his previous visits to Oahu. John had been proud of the work he had done on the car but had seemed sad when he told Harry that he couldn't seem to get the nerve to start working on it again. It had been his and Steve's bonding project. Their father-son time had been spent hiking together and working on this car. John had even confessed that he had planned to give it to Steve as a gift once they had finished it. But that had all been ruined by his wife's murder and the panic that Noshimura would decide to target Steve and Mary as well.

"**I can't continue this investigation into the police department from the inside. I don't trust the people I work with. So…I'm gonna have to do this on my own. It's all about the key. I just don't know what it's for." **

The creek of the front door opening startled Harry and Steve, who both turned to look towards the entrance to the garage. Steve turned off the tape recorder, carefully putting it back in the stained toolbox. Harry felt the hair on his back stand on end as another man rushed into the room, gun draw and pointed at Steve. Harry hissed and readied himself to jump at the man if needed. He couldn't protect John but he damn sure was going to protect his son.

"You, hands up, don't move," commanded the blond man.

Steve drew his own gun, his hands steady and sure as they pointed the weapon at the stocky, blond haired man in the dress shirt and tie. Harry barely managed to dodge the man's feet as he rushed around the front of the car to face Steve. As the man moved past, Harry froze. The man's scent was heavy in the air as he walked past and Harry felt his fur relaxing back into place. He knew this man, he was the cop assigned to solve John's murder. He had been here several times since the police first arrived to find John's body and he was the only one who returned. Harry could pick up the scent of the man's disgust at his fellow police officers every time he came to the house. It was as sharp as the scent of their disgust for him was, but Harry could better understand the blond cops disgust at his fellows officers of the law. They had come and processed at least a part of the scene and then just abandoned it. Only the blond cop return to seek answers to what had happened here. To seek justice for a fallen brother in arms. It was obvious that this man wasn't one of the dirty cops, that he thought they should have been out en masse to solve this case rather than leaving the house as empty as a ghost town.

"Who are you," demanded Steve, his gun raised at the other man.

"Who are you? I am Detective Danny Williams-"

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett. This is my father's house," Steve interrupted. His eyes were targeted on the blond man, their gaze cold and hard with his need for answers and vengeance.

"Put your weapon down now," detective Williams calmly demanded.

"No, you put your weapon down. Show me your ID." Steve stepped forward causing Detective Williams to step back against the shelves lining the wall, again nearly stepping on Harry, who had to scoot further back.

"Show me your ID right now," he demanded, voice getting louder.

"I'm not putting my gun down."

Detective Williams took a deep breath and Harry could see him visibly trying to calm himself down. "Neither am I."

Harry rolled his eyes and lay down on the ground, his tail twitching behind him in amusement as he watched the two men posturing before him. He had gotten used to seeing these Alpha Male pissing contests since joining the Auror Department and the Queen's Royal Task Force. This was nothing new, although the underlying sexual tension he could feel in the air was. Smirking to himself Harry wondered if either man was aware that their initial attraction to the other was reciprocated.

"Use your free hand, take out your ID," Steve demanded again.

"Please, after you," snarked the Detective.

"At the same time?"

"At the same time," asked Detective Williams, who managed to sound both amused and irritated by the request.

"The same time."

"What, like on the count of three?"

Steve shrugged, his gun still trained on the shorter man. "Okay. Three is good."

"One…"

Detective Williams moved one hand off his gun, Steve paralleling the movement.

"Two…"

Carefully both men reached for their wallets.

"Three."

As if they had been doing it for years, both men held up their ID's at the same time.

With a shake of his head, Steve put his gun back in its holster and shoved his wallet back in his back pocket. Turning away from the blond Detective to look at the toolbox that his father had hinted at.

"Listen," Detective Willams seemed to relax, a look of understanding in his eyes as he approached Steve. He moved slowly, carefully as if Steve was the wild animal Harry looked like. "I'm really sorry about your father, but you can't be here right now. This is an active crime scene."

"Doesn't seem that active."

Detective Williams waved his hand looking a bit irritated, although neither Steve nor Harry could tell if it was actually Steve the man is irritated by. "I can't share any information with you."

"Hesse wasn't in here alone when my father was murdered. Someone was sitting at the desk in the study. There was a space cleared for a 13-inch laptop and my father hated computers."

Detective Williams looked like he was trying not to sigh out loud as he moved even closer to Steve and the tool box that Steve was clutching closely. "I'm gonna ask you again, you gotta leave."

Steve grabbed the toolbox and moved to walk past Danny. Steve knew he couldn't stay here any longer without causing problems he couldn't waste time on and he just hoped that the Detective wouldn't notice that Steve was leaving with something that might be evidence to why his father was murdered. "You got it."

"And you can leave the box. That is evidence. You know that."

Steve stopped and turned to look at Danny. "I came with this."

"No, you didn't come with it. I see the dust void it left here on the counter. What's in the box?"

"How long have you been with Honolulu PD?"

Harry felt his eyebrow, or what passed for an eyebrow for a cat, at the sudden smell of anger and hurt acceptance. "None of your business. Who're you Barbara Walters?"

"It is my business if you're investigating my father's death."

"I am ad I'd like to get back to that. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can."

Steve turned to leave again, ignoring Detective Williams' demands to leave the toolbox behind. "Anything you say."

"Leave the box or get arrested. All right?"

Steve turned to face the shorter man again, his scent heavy with irritation. "Gonna call for backup?"

"An ambulance," the Detective said, sounding very sure of himself. Although whither the ambulance would be for the detective or Steve, Harry didn't know. Steve was a SEAL, trained to kill. But the detective was a police officer and had gone through training to take down enemies as well, and although sorter than Steve the detective was obviously well muscled and strong.

Steve nodded at the seriousness in Danny's tone and set the toolbox down on top of the Marquise.

"Thank you," remarked the detective.

"Don't thank me yet." Steve pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through until he found the number that the Governor gave him that morning before the funeral.

"What are you doing," demanded Detective Williams.

Steve glared at Detective Williams and looked away, almost catching sight of where Harry was resting beneath the shelves.

"Yeah, Governor Jameson, please. Tell her its Steve McGarrett."

"Oh please," Detective Williams gave a look to Steve that said he plainly did not believe what was happening.

Steve took the phone from his ear and quickly flipped it to speaker phone mode. The Governor's voice could be heard coming out of the phone in the otherwise silent garage, not that Detective Williams was all that convinced that the voice actually belonged to the Governor. "Commander. Governor Jameson here. What can I do for you?"

Steve fliped the phone back to normal mode as Detective Williams muttered and walked around the back of the car and then back towards the work bench the toolbox had originally be sitting on.

"Governor, I'll take the job…" Steve blinked and glanced back over his shoulder at the Detective carefully studying the workbench. "No, let's just say I found something that changed my mind…No, immediately. I'll transfer to the reserves and I'll run your task force…Wait. What, right now?...okay."

Steve glanced at Danny, blushed ever so slightly and turned his back to the other man. He didn't like showing his back to an enemy but there was something about the other man that made him think he was clean. He couldn't have been at the HPD long enough to be pulled into whatever dirty operation his father was worried about. The HPD was full of Hawaiians who wouldn't be all that willing to trust a haole, especially after such a short amount of time since the man had arrived from the mainland.

"I, Steven J. McGarrett…do solemnly declare upon my honor and conscience that I will act at all times to the best of my ability and knowledge…I a manner befitting an officer of the law. Thank you, Governor."

Steve ended the call and glared at Detective Williams again for good measure before grabbing the toolbox and turning to head out of the garage.

Detective Williams, leaning against the car, arms crossed over his chest watched Steve walk out of what had been his crime scene with a sour expression. He didn't like anyone stealing his crime scene and he really didn't like that it was the victim's son. That was a huge conflict of interest and defense lawyers loved to use that in court. Detective Williams remained there for several minutes after Steve had left, glaring holes into the door. Finally and with a very loud and exaggerated sigh, he stood back up and moved to leave only to stumble to a halt at the sound of a loud feline yowl of pain and the sudden blossom of pain in his calf. Looking down he saw that trapped beneath his foot was the long spotted tail of a rather large cat, which, in retaliation, had wrapped itself around his leg, claws digging into tender flesh through his slacks. Carefully reaching down, Detective Williams grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck before lifting his foot off its tail. The cat hissed at him but settled down fairly quickly as he moved to look its tail over.

"Sorry about that, little guy. Didn't see you hiding down there."

Harry let out a little chuff as Danny released his tail and started to look him over. Harry had been too concerned about watching John's place for Hesse's return to worry about cleaning the now dry, crusty blood out of his matted fur and it was obvious that the sight of all the dried blood in his fur bothered the man.

"Poor guy, looks like you had a bad day too. Why don't we take you to get cleaned up? Yeah?"

Detective Williams lifted Harry's chin. Scratching lightly until Harry couldn't help but melt into the touch, chuffing and bumping his head against Danny's hand.

"Poppet? That's no name for a big guy like you," Detective Williams said as he looked at the little tag hooked to the leather collar.

Harry sighed and decided that if Detective Williams kept petting him and scratching his chin like that he would be happy as a clam to go wherever the Detective wanted.

1 _Subsisto in Cattus_ is latin for 'remake into cat.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Danny's Apartment, Oahu**

Danny dropped the wet towel into the whicker hamper next to the shower and looked down at his soaked and miserable looking cat. Poppet, and boy was he going to have to come up with a better name, had not been pleased about the bath at first. So, Danny was thankful the large cat had not clawed his arms up trying to get out of the water. Fortunately once Danny had started to work in the shampoo, washing out the dried blood, the cat had calmed down and just went limp in his arms, making all manner of happy noises as Danny's fingers combed gently through his hair.

Washing the cat Danny had realized that it was also much too light and he could feel the rubs beneath his fingers. He had seen similar back in Newark when he would occasionally go with the SPCA to get animals out of abusive homes. He didn't think Steve's dad was the one who abused Poppet. He couldn't picture the man Meka talked about like he was some kind of Superhero, hurting an innocent animal. No, Danny was of the opinion that John McGarrett had likely rescued his furry new friend and had been murdered before Poppet had put on any decent weight.

Danny sighed, pushing his hands back along the sides of his hair as he watched the spotted cat try to curl up near the little spot of sun coming in through the small window. Smiling, Danny grabbed the towel and carefully lifted Poppet up into his arms, gently rubbing the towel over the still wet, shaking body.

"We'll get you dried off and warmed back up. Give it a couple more days and we'll have you fattened back up to a healthy weight."

Poppet mewed and pressed his face into shoulder. Danny smiled again and scratched behind one of Poppet's large ears. Outside the rain was coming down heavy, blocking out the bright Hawaiian sun. These sudden downpours still surprised Danny, even after the months he'd been on the island. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it. Shaking his head at the window where it looked like a waterfall was pouring down from the floor above, Danny walked out of the bathroom and headed back to the front room and the pull-out couch.

Settling into the lumpy and battered old couch, Danny finished drying off his cat before leaning back into the couch. Letting out a long breath he stared up at the ceiling and absent-mindedly scratched behind Poppet's ear. "Just you and me now…"

A loud banging against his flimsy door brought a scowl to Danny's lips. For a moment he thought about ignoring it, but the blinds were open and the windows large enough that anyone looking in would easily be able to see him. Hiding wasn't really going to be an option. Moving Poppet off his lap and onto one of his pillows, Danny got up and took the few short steps to the door, opening just as the man outside was about to force it open. Scowling at Lt. Commander McGarrett, who was standing there looking like some kind of wet dream, all soaked in water, his shirt clinging to the plains of his body in ways only the wickedest parts of Danny's sexual fantasies would have been allowed to dream up.

"I swung by your precinct, spoke to your captain. He said you requested a wire be put on someone named Fred Doran. Tell me about him." Steve pushed his way past Danny and into the small apartment, looking all around him with greedy eyes that flickered with a hint of disgust and pity as he realized how small the apartment was.

"Come in," Danny replied to McGarrett's back, voice as thick with sarcasm as he could make it and not be told he sounded like a whiny brat.

Steve caught sight of a picture of a smiling little girl on top of a tiny end table beneath one of the large windows. The picture of Grace Danny had taken on his last weekend with her in New Jersey. "This your kid?"

Danny glared and went to grab the photo only to stop when Steve set it back down and moved to another spot in the room. "Yeah. Stunning detective work."

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the other man, who didn't seem the least bit perturbed to be intruding into another man's home without so much as a "how do you do."

"You don't actually let her stay here with you, do you?"

"What are you, uh, Nanny 911?"

Harry who had been curled up on the pillows on the pull-out sofa bed stretched and turned to watch the two men. Amused again by the easy way the fall into orbit around each other. If he had to be stuck as an Ocelot at least he had gotten taken in by Danny. Here with Danny was already much better than with Hesse, and not just because Danny wasn't a gun-smuggling psycho. Danny was giving him food (that wasn't poisoned), clean lodging, and a great deal of entertainment. Still, he would rather be human again and able to stand side-by-side with these two men and help them bring Hesse to justice.

"So, what do you know about this guy? Doran," asked Steve.

"Oh, surely you don't need my help, right?" Danny moved to take a seat on the bed, absent-mindedly scratching behind Harry's ears. Harry purred contentedly, basking in the strong touch and smirking at Steve from half open eyes.

"Enlighten me." Steve crossed his arms and stared at Danny, willing him to answer. If he would have asked, Harry would have told him that tactic wasn't going to be the right one to get what the Navy SEAL _really_ wanted from Danny.

"He's a suspected arms dealer. Two years Maui Correctional for weapons possession. Currently a person of interest on an unrelated homicide. The weapon was never found."

"So, what's he got to do with my father's case?"

"When I ran a ballistics comparison of the bullet that killed your Dad, I got a hit to the Doran investigation. See I think the first thing that Hesse did when he got on the island was hook up with Doran and get a gun."

Steve looked Danny over again, eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the hands idly stroking through Harry's fur. "Maybe Doran still knows where he is. So let's go talk to him."

Danny pushed Harry off his lap and stood up, turning to face Steve who was already halfway to the door. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Excuse me, are you suffering from dementia? This is no longer my case."

Steve turned back to face Danny, a smirk rising the corner of his lips up. "Your captain said you transferred in from New Jersey six months ago. Your eye's are still fresh."

"You know, uh…" Danny brushed off some of Harry's fur from his tie. "I appreciate it, but my psych eval's not for six weeks."

"Fold-out bed, a single cat, no ring on your finger…You obviously moved here to be close to your daughter. Means between your visits, all you got is a cat and your job. And you take pride in the job. That's what I'm looking for."

"Yeah, but you know what? It's guys like you who think they know how to do everything better, and that only makes my job harder."

"You got no choice, Detective. Governor gave me jurisdiction and I'm making you my partner. We're gonna get along great." Steve smirked and turned back to the door, walking out into the rain without hesitation.

Danny ran hands over his face and turned to look at the cat lounging contentedly on his pillow. "Between you and me…this is not going to end well."

Harry sighed as Danny and Steve left, leaving him trapped in the tiny apartment. He wanted to be out there with them. He needed to be with them, to protect them from Hesse and to avenge John. But they didn't know that. They didn't know he wasn't just a pet and so they left him here. Locked into Danny's tiny apartment, with nothing to entertain himself with but a little girl's doll, a small pile of dirty clothes, a well worn paperback mystery and a Hello Kitty laptop. Why Danny had a pink laptop with a cartoon cat on it Harry didn't know, (Hell, Harry wished he didn't know who Hello Kitty was, he did have a god daughter though and she loved the stupid cat) but he was guessing it belonged to Danny's daughter.

Yawning he lazily stretched his body out, tail up in the air and chest down before having another long yawn. Stretching out the other direction, head up, tail down, Harry flicked the stress of the day away. Looking about the room he jumped quietly off the sofa-bed to the floor and padded on his little cat feet over to the table that Steve had paused beside. Looking up at it Harry calculated his jump so that he would safely land on the table without knocking over any of Danny's pictures. It wasn't as easy as it looked, but then cats had a talent for making everything look easy for them. So if any of Danny's neighbors had looked in they would have seen a rather large spotted housecat landing smoothly on the small amount of clear space on the side table, only to circle once before sitting down in front of all the framed photos, large green eyes looking over each of them carefully and with a far too intelligent gaze.

Musing over the many pictures Harry realized the little girl in most of them had Danny's smile, but likely looked more like her mother. Although… Harry looked closer at one of the other pictures and then back at the picture of Grace, maybe Grace looked a bit more like the older woman, most likely Danny's mother based on her apparent age, in the other picture behind it. The older woman in that picture had the same cheekbones and eye shape as Danny's little girl. She was a pretty little girl and Harry had to grin because even looking at just a couple of the pictures Danny had set out of her he could guess the girl was a "Daddy's girl" just based on the way she would look at Danny in the photos. Harry found himself most charmed by the picture of Grace hanging off Danny's raised arm and the one next to it of Grace sitting on Danny's shoulders. That one appeared to be the most recent since it looked like they were at one of Hawaii's many beaches.

Feeling a bit more relaxed Harry jumped off the table and spent another twenty minutes pacing out the apartment, mapping out any possible escapes routes he could squeeze through in this form. There were a few spots he should be able to get out through and there was at east one loose wall board he could squeeze through which opened into a bit of space between the walls. It wasn't a comfy fit but it could do as a make-shift hiding spot if needed, and if he really wanted he could probably open a whole into the other side of the wall. But that would put Danny at risk if the neighbor found out.

Hissing at himself, Harry backed out of the wall and looked down at his dusty fur. Instinct was telling him to lick it off, but the human part of his brain did not relish the idea even a little bit. There were far more important things to be doing right now than giving himself a bath. For one, his bladder had a pressing need to be emptied and for another he still had to find some way to help protect Danny and Steve from Victor Hesse. In this form he couldn't cast any major magics, but maybe he could try a blood ward. He didn't know if it would work since he didn't have full access to his magic while trapped in this form, but he supposed he should try. After that he could try to figure out how to get Danny and Steve to understand who he was and how to stop Hesse.

Realizing that he had already started to lick his coat clean while thinking, Harry hissed again and tried to spit the dust and bits of fur off his tongue. Great. He was going to have to deal with a furball at some point now as well. If cats could scowl Harry certainly would be.

Shaking himself Harry made his way over to one of the large windows that Danny had left open a crack. Pushing at the screen, the lose edge opened allowing Harry to sneak out and drop to the ground below. Quickly looking around him, Harry was grateful to find that none of the people he had seen earlier were out and about, but feeling the mud from the flower bed below the window squeezing up between his toes might just be worse than a nosey neighbor spotting him. Not that he wanted to be spotted, mind you. He was going to have to cut open at least one of his pads to mark out the runes that would cement the blood ward around Danny's apartment and somehow he didn't think even a Muggle would think it normal cat behavior.

Glancing about nervously Harry tried to ignore the pressure of his bladder as he began to mentally plan out the wards. Wincing at the way his bladder squirmed in his belly, making his hips twitch, claws digging into the dirt, Harry hissed and looked back up at the window. He didn't think he could jump to the window and crawl back through the small opening without his bladder going off. Fur puffed up in irritation Harry darted to the cover of the nearest bush to relive himself. The sudden rush of fluids out of his body, reliving the uncomfortable pressure, was nearly orgasmic after trying to hold it in for the last two hours. Purring in relief Harry waited until he felt empty to kick at the beauty bark around him, trying to hide the puddle of liquid.

Harry headed back to the edge of the bush, looking out to spot one of Danny's neighbors leaving her apartment, locking the door and carefully walking to her car. After a couple minutes with no new neighbors walking by, Harry crawled out from his hiding spot and went to the front of Danny's apartment. Glancing down sadly as his paws Harry gave a long internal sigh. This was going to hurt like a bitch and he didn't have aces to any of his healing agents so he would have to wait for Danny to come back and whine until the man bandaged him up. He didn't like that. He was so used to be able to care for himself that having to wait for someone else to be available to bandage one of his wounds just sucked.

He might be stuck here and unable to help them out in the field, but he was still a man, even if he looked like an ocelot. Once he finished putting up the wards maybe he could sneak back inside and use the laptop computer he saw, or maybe some paper and a pencil and he could try writing out something to help them. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to do because, really he needed an actual thumb to write anything, but if he was lucky then maybe he could get the laptop turned on and poke around on he keys to type something a bit more legible up.

Cutting into his main paw pad with one long claw on his other front paw hurt just as much as he had thought it would. Almost as bad as a glass cut. Blood welled up quickly, dripping over the edges of his foot, sticking into his fur for a moment before more blood pooled over and dripped onto the ground at his feet.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Harry watched it form a small pool at his feet. Once it had reached the approximate size of a Galleon he opened his claws on his wounded paw and started to drag it through the blood, tracing out the rune circle he would use. Once the circle was drawn he leaned over it until his nose was almost touching. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly opened his mouth, focusing his magic as best he could before breathing it out over the circle. As his eyes opened he caught sight of the magic dancing over the wet blood, drying it instantly and sinking into the earth.

Satisfied that the first rune layer had come out perfectly, he lifted his injured paw and headed over to the next corner. This corner was actually on the other side of the apartment sharing the wall with Danny's but Harry doubted the old lady who lived in the apartment was up to anything nefarious. So he hardly hesitated in bleeding out again and sketching in the second rune.

It took an hour total to layer down the rest of the first layer of wards. By the time he was done he felt more than a little light headed. Swaying a bit as he moved Harry stumbled back towards the window and his way back inside. He sat in front of the window just staring up at it. He couldn't help but think that the window had moved itself higher up the wall. Surely it hadn't been that long of a drop.

Harry tilted his head from side to side, watching the window to see if it might move itself lower. Months, maybe minutes or years passed as he watched the window but eventually it crept down the side of the building until it was low enough for Harry to jump up onto the tiny ledge and tumble through the tear in the screen, dropping to the floor below. Satisfied for now that he had done his duty to Danny for taking him in, at least in part, he wobbled over to the fold out sofa bed, jumping back up onto it and collapsing into a pile of Danny's worn pajama pants.

Rubbing his head into the soft fabric, breathing in the heady, richly musky scent in the fabric, Harry let himself drift to sleep.

**Wailoa Shave Ice, Oahu; Hawaii**

Danny and Steve walked away from the shave ice stand where Chin was talking with his informant, an overly large Hawaiian man by the name of Kamekona. As if paying the man most of what was in his pocket wasn't enough, Steve and Danny had been forced to put on the over sized tee-shirts the man had forced them to buy, and stand over by Danny's car, shave ice in hand. It was like the walk of shame, but without any walking or the sex. Neither man was pleased by the whole thing but Steve thought Danny was far too relaxed given the humiliation they were having forced upon them. He would have thought the New Jersey native would have started to rant at Chin and Kamekona as he had ranted at Steve earlier in the day. But instead Danny was happily leaning back against his car, eating a cherry shave ice and watching the people at the beach across the street.

Steve glanced away from Danny to the little girl who was now standing in front of them, watching them.

"Are you a cop," asked the girl.

Steve blinked, startled. "No."

The girl gave him a long look, which made obvious her disbelief of his answer. "Well, you look like a cop."

Steve glanced over at Danny, who smirked at him, before kneeling in front of the little girl. Behind him the smirked slipped off Danny's face as he watched Steve approach the little girl with a curious expression. "You like cotton candy? Find your mom."

The girl glared at him, bottom lip sticking out. "I don't like cotton candy."

Danny tried not to laugh at McGarrett. It was obvious the man had never been around children before. The man had no social skills what so ever. It was like he had been raised by wolves, or maybe wild pigs since this damn island didn't even have wolves.

Deciding to take pity on the little girl, who looked like she was about ready to kick McGarrett in an unmentionable place, Danny stepped in. "I got something you might like, okay?" Danny turned and reached in through his window, pulling out the oversized pink stuffed bunny that he had bought for Grace. "How about-? How about that?"

Danny handed the bunny to the suddenly excited looking little girl. She looked up at him, her eyes widening and a smile stretching her lips as she caught sight of the stuffed animal. "Yeah, thanks!"

Danny smiled, releasing the bunny into her tiny hands. "Your welcome."

The girl smiled warmly up at Danny before running off to show her mother the stuffed animal. Steve looked in shock at Danny, who was smiling softly after the girl.

"What," Danny asked, glaring at Steve for good measure.

Laughing Chin approached them from the other side of the car, taking in the confused look on Steve's face and the amused one on Danny's. Chin smirked at Steve who blushed and glanced away only to meet Danny's smirking gaze.

Growling, Steve turned back to Chin. "You better have a name."

**Later That Day, McGarrett House, Oahu**

Danny smiled at Poppet as he followed Steve out of the car and back into the house where Danny had found him. Danny was starting to think the cat must have been John McGarrett's pet, rather than a wandering house cat who stumbled upon the crime scene. But as Steve had never mentioned the cat or asked for it back, Danny was left to wonder if Poppet had belonged to John McGarrett. So Danny was content to keep him. He was a striking cat, all tawny fur, white belly and black spots, with the most amazingly bright green eyes. He looked like a jungle cat that should be in a zoo, but Danny couldn't picture a cop as straight laced as John McGarrett keeping an illegal pet. So Poppet must have been one of those breeds that was designed to look like a wild cat species. A little odd for a man he pictured as rather having a large dog for a pet, but sometimes you could never tell.

Of course Poppet seemed like a calm, friendly sort of cat as well, which meant he didn't need to worry about the cat attacking Grace on the weekends she spent with Danny. And surely a cat as cool looking as Poppet was better than any bunny, even with a newly bandaged paw? Speaking of, Danny couldn't help but wonder how the cat hurt himself. Danny couldn't find any bloodstain inside other than a few spots on his pajama pants, where Poppet had been sleeping. Maybe the would was from before?

Danny opened the door, letting Poppet go in first so that he wouldn't trip over the cat. "You," Danny called out as he spotted Steve. "Spoke to Chin, he's setting up the meet with Sang Min."

Steve looked up from his laptop, glancing between Danny and the box he carried to the cat that had preceded him into the house. Poppet jumped up onto the back of the leather recliner and stared at Steve, making Steve shiver a bit. There was something in the cat's eyes that seemed far too intelligent for an animal.

"I got that surveillance equipment you asked for."

Steve looked away from the cat and back to Danny. "And a cat too."

Danny rolled his eyes and set the box on the table next to the laptop. "He needed to be fed and God only knows how long we'll on this case. I couldn't just leave him in the apartment alone all night and day."

Steve looked back at the laptop and the face in the grainy black and white photo on the screen. "You recognize this guy?"

Danny leaned over looking at the screen. "No. Who is it?"

"Jovan Etienne." Steve and Danny both startled and spun to face the cat who was glaring at the screen, hissing, his fur all on end. Raising an eyebrow at Danny, who shrugged just as confused as Steve by the behavior. Deciding to just ignore the cat Steve turned back to the laptop. "File says he worked for the Russians as a computer programmer in the SVR. He was here when my father was murdered. I found his palm prints in the study, partial boot prints in here."

"Wait, how do you know the boot prints didn't belong to Hesse?"

"Hesse wears a Size 11 like me, except double E. The prints I found were smaller. Hesse gets his footwork custom made. Direct-injected polyurethane midsole with a natural all-rubber outsole."

Harry, who had calmed himself down, looked up from where he was licking his back leg, surprised by how well John's son knew Victor Hesse. Harry had been following the man for four years, almost five and he couldn't even spout all that off the top of his head. Although, Harry could tell you Victor's favorite brand of tea, beer and coffee, his favorite restaurants in six different countries and the name of the last two woman (and one man) he had slept with. Still Harry had never really paid much attention to what the man wore for shoes. It hadn't ever seemed that important a fact to focus on, but hearing Steve talk made him realize that Harry had been dismissing a vital bit of information that could have told him so much more about his prey.

"Oh. Your, uh, brain must be a miserable place." Danny shook his head at Steve, shared a look with Poppet, who strangely enough looked almost amused, if an animal could look that way, and wandered back towards the kitchen. "I need a beer."

Steve sighed and watched Danny wander off before glancing back at the cat who was still watching him. The look in the cat's eyes still bothered him a bit but he didn't think Danny would have brought it over if it was likely to attack him out of the blue. Licking his lips nervously, Steve walked out of the room towards the kitchen, his eyes not leaving the cat. He wondered briefly if Danny's cat was the same one who had left bloody paw prints in the house. No, Danny didn't seem like the kind of guy who would bring an animal to the crime scene that could damage evidence.

Danny wasn't in the kitchen when Steve entered but he could hear the man wandering around in the nearby rooms, his voice soft and full of love like it had been in the car while he talked to his daughter. Realizing Danny might be a while Steve grabbed a beer took a long drink and then walked over to his duffle bag which was sitting by the door out to the lanai, right where he had left it earlier. Pulling out a clean, dry tee-shirt, Steve grabbed his beer and headed outside. The sun was setting and he hadn't had a chance to just sit back and watch it go down over the waves of his home in over a decade.

By the time Steve had made it to the sand where a pair of weather roughened wooden chairs were set out, Danny was already walking out of the house, his own bottle of beer in one hand, a bowl of milk in the other and his cat following along behind. Steve shook out his shirt and glanced over at the cat who jumped up onto one of the chairs. Danny set the bowl of milk down on the sand and turned to look over at Steve.

"You gonna stop staring," inquired Danny.

"You ever gonna tell me what Danno means?"

"Yeah, when you tell me what's in the box."

"Truth is I don't know yet." Steve pulled on the navy colored tee and reached for his beer as Danny lifted the cat from the second chair, holding it close to his body. "All I know is that my father wanted me to find it. Right now it's just a puzzle."

Danny looked away from the sunset and back to the man he was starting to think could be a friend given time and opportunity. "Me and Grace, we like puzzles."

"You're a good father."

Danny sighed and sat back into the chair, taking a long drink from his beer before looking back out at the sea, one hand lazily stroking the cat, who was gazing longingly at the bowl of milk at Danny's feet. "Yeah, maybe. I don't know. You know, there's three ways of looking at it. One: I could get myself killed chasing some meth-head scumbag, then what kind of father would I be?"

"I always looked up to my father for that. You know, the sacrifices he made. I'm sure Grace is gonna feel the same."

"Yeah, maybe. Either that or she might think I'm just a selfish son of a bitch. Because the truth is this is all I got. I need this. I wanna do what I'm good at, I wanna be reminded I'm good at what I do. If that means having to put up with your twisted belief that you are never wrong, so be it."

Steve smiled and stretched out his beer to clink against Danny's bottle in a little toast. Danny smiled at him and looked away, nervously twisting the bottle in one hand.

"So, what's the third," asked Steve.

"Well, even if I tell myself that this isn't permanent, this is Grace's home now. Its my job to keep it safe." In his lap, Poppet purred and rubbed his head against Danny's chest. Danny smiled down at the cat, scratching under his chin and smiling even wider as Poppet's eyes closed on a blissful sounding rumble.

Steve's cell phone rang, breaking the spell of peace that the sunset over the water seemed to have brought about. Two minutes later they were running back to the house, grabbing their gear and heading out the door. Harry left forgotten in the house. Again.

Harry sighed and walked into the kitchen. At least Danny left him some cat food this time.

**The Emma Karl Cargo Ship; Port of Honolulu, Oahu**

Danny grabbed a hold of the 'Oh Shit' bar on the ceiling of the squad car as Steve burnt rubber, darting between freight containers and dock works like some kind of drunken Nascar driver. He had been in a lot of car chases back in New Jersey but now of them made him think he was going to die or piss himself. Of course he was going to be the lucky bastard who got shanghaied into being Steve McGarrett's partner. As they went around yet another almost 90 degree turn, Danny cursed himself and which ever God he had pissed off as the theme from Psycho started to play over the screech of the tires.

Reaching into his pocket Danny pulled out his cell. "Yeah? - Rachel. Rachel! Don't start with me I left you two messages telling you, you needed to pick her up."

Steve glanced away from the road and over to Danny. He couldn't believe the man was going to talk with his wife while they were in the middle of a case! What was that? Who did that?

"Don't tell me he had a change of plans! You send the driver for her half the time anyway. I can't – I can't do that right now. I'm in the middle of something." Danny winced as Steve took another sharp turn. In the distance between the containers he could see the bright blue of the waters ahead of them. "Please stop for a second. Can you just do me one favor? Just tell Gra-"

Steve glanced over at Danny catching the looked of pained anger flash over his features as he paused to catch whatever his ex-wife was saying on the other end of the call.

"Tell Grace Danno loves her, all right," he practically begged. Danny let out a long suffering sigh and ended the call looking out the window and then back towards his new partner who was watching rather than the narrow excuse for a road they were on between cargo. "Okay. Gracie was three. She tried saying my name, and all that she could say was Danno. That's all that came out, Danno, okay?"

"That's it," asked Steve. He had thought it would be something far more embarrassing considering how Danny had acted earlier when he had asked.

"That's it."

Steve shrugged. "It's cute."

"Shut up."

"Why can't I think it's cute?"

"Don't," demanded Danny. "Because I don't need you thinking about it. It's between me and my daughter."

"All right."

Danny winced and grabbed the 'Oh Shit' bar again as they spun into the last turn putting them on the pier attached to the large cargo freighter where Hesse was supposed to be hiding. Just as suddenly as they went into the turn Steve brought the car to a stop, tires still smoking.

"There it is, the Emma Karl," Steve said as if the ship held the answer to every question and every nightmare he'd ever had.

"Taking off," Danny noted. "How do you wanna do this?"

Steve pulled out his gun, cocking it and checking the rounds. Danny glanced at the gun, winced and shook his head. He had barley known Steve McGarrett for a day and already he knew the man's MO was to go in hot, shoot them all and the God (or Danny) to sort out the rest. He could already feel the ulcers forming.

"Right."

"Hold on." Steve hit the gas, the car spinning slightly before surging forward towards the ramp leading onto the deck of the freighter. Danny silently prayed for his continued existence as the car hit the ramp, bouncing hard enough to send his stomach into his throat.

"All right. All right. All right." There was a sudden hail of gunfire as the guards on the deck spotted them, drawing their automatic rifles and firing as quickly as possible at the car, the speed of their draw not making up for the lack of accuracy, thank any Deity watching.

Danny cursed as the car scratched the containers on the ship, the driver's side mirror breaking off in the face of one of the shooters as the second threw himself to the side, barley avoiding the speeding car. A third man stood in front of them, too shocked to more as McGarrett drove the car right into him, the man's body cracking the windshield as he flew up and over the top of the car to go crashing down behind them.

"Cover me," Steve said, glancing at Danny. "I'm gonna find Hesse."

Danny nodded and popped open his door, gun already in front of his as he rollout of the car onto his feet, body moving forward towards the other shooters coming at them from the other end of the deck. One went down with a quick shot to the chest as another came from the side shooting out the driver's side window, nearly hitting Steve in the throat. Not stopping to even blink over the almost hit, Steve kicked the door open, shot through the broken window and took down the other guy.

"Go! Go," Danny screamed at Steve.

Steve jumped out of the car running down the now open path where the shooter who had nearly gotten off a lucky shot and killed him was laying in a pool of blood.

Danny glanced over at where Steve had been before holstering his own gun and making a quick dash to the body of one of the other fallen gunmen, grabbing the man's rifle as more voices yelling in Cantonese came up onto the deck, drawn by the sound of all the gunfire. Checking the safety Danny ran off between the steel containers after Steve. This was such a bad idea. Massively bad, really. They were creating a diplomatic incident that could likely start world war III, trapped on a ship with armed gunrunners and if that wasn't bad enough all the shipping containers on the deck had turned the whole thing into some horrific maze of death!

Danny cursed himself and Steve McGarret (again) and darted down another pathway between containers, dropping to his knees and skidding across the deck as a gunman spotted him and took fire, spreading a hail of bullets across the containers just about where Danny's head should have been.

"Shit. Fuck." Danny peaked around the corner, jerking back as the gunman fired at him again. "Fuck my life. Fuck my life!"

Grimacing Danny spun around the edge of the container and fired at where he thought the gunman was, shaking with adrenaline as he watched the man's chest jerked back with the force of the bullet hitting him. "Thank God these guys are stupid enough not to give the minions bullet-proof vests."

Danny darted back the way he had been going, pausing to look around the corner. "And to think I could be home right now drinking a beer and watching the game with my cat."

Danny fired off another round at a lone gunman walking by. "How is this even my life?"

Ahead of him he could hear gunfire and the sound of a struggle. Steve must have found Hesse. Looking around the corner and cursing the timing of the damn minions, Danny darted back as another hail of bullets whizzed by. Ahead the sound of gunfire had stopped. It was too quite. Something must have gone wrong.

Taking a deep breath Danny twisted out from behind his cover screaming as a bullet grazed his already injured arm, his own gun going off, bullets flying. The gunman nearly got him again, but luck was on Danny's side for once and the man went down. Not waiting to see if he was still alive Danny turned and raced towards where the last sounds of Steve and Hesse fighting had come from.

"There's something you show know," came Steve's voice from just a little ahead. "About your brother."

"What about him." The sound of the rifle cocking back made Danny's heart pound harder in his chest. He wasn't going to make. He had to make it!

"He died the same way you did," Steve's voice echoed through the air with a confidence Danny didn't feel.

The sound of two quick shots went off and a moment later Danny heard a body hit the water. Praying he wasn't too late Danny forced his tired, aching muscles to work harder, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up from his knee. Coming out into the open Danny caught sight of Steve standing with his back turned to Danny, one of the injured gunman already struggling to get up and take Steve down while his back was turned. Kicking the man's gun away Danny smashed his hand into the guys back, shoving his face onto the rusty metal deck.

"Put your hands behind your back. Don't make me shoot you again."

Danny pulled a zip-tie out of his pocket, tying the gunman's hands behind his back, one sore knee braced on the small of the struggling man's back.

"Hey," Steve called down. "Get the Coast Guard to find that body."

"What do you want me to do with this one," asked Danny, hoping that the fear and worry that had been rushing through him only seconds before wasn't obvious.

"Book 'em, Danno." Steve grinned down at him, his face alight with the emotions Danny was sure he would refuse to acknowledge he felt tomorrow. Relief. Gratitude. And maybe, just maybe, something more that neither of them were willing to examine too closely just yet.

**That Night, McGarrett House, Oahu**

Steve stumbled into his house long after the sun had gone down. He had wanted to stay at the docks longer, waiting for the Coast Guard to locate Hesse's body, but Danny could be relentless when he wanted. And he had certainly wanted Steve to go see the EMT's. After that Danny had had no problem dragging Steve back to the Palace where Kono and Chin had already gathered. Still a bit loopy from the drugs he had let Danny shove him into a chair and drop a container of some take away into his hands. Even now, hours later he wasn't sure what Danny had given him to eat. He was too drunk on the success of his team in taking down the man who killed his father, a man a full team of Navy SEALs had been unable to capture. He had done more good in the last 24 hours with this make-shift team of ragtag outcasts than he felt he ever had in the Navy. Maybe that was just because of the personal tie to the mission, or maybe it was that it took place in his home state, or maybe it was just the people. Just Chin Ho, Kono and Danny.

Danny.

Danny with the attitude, the hand-waving and the ties. Danny who was like a walking, talking force of nature.

Yeah. It could be Danny.

Steve smiled to himself and toed off his boots, letting them drop where they lay. He could worry about tripping over them in the morning. Tugging his shirt off over his injured arm, Steve winced at the pain that briefly flared up over the haze of the pain meds and dropped it on the stairs as he went up towards his bedroom. He would have to see if Danny or Chin knew anyone on the island who could come in and clean up the blood stains still covering the study, as well as all those bloody paw prints which seem to have doubled? Maybe that was just a product of his drugged mind though. Why would the bloody paw prints have doubled? Maybe he just missed the ones that had been one the stairs on his first short run through of the house? Yeah, that was most likely it. He had really been focused on the downstairs and the main crime scene to notice anything odd up on the stairs.

Wait. Why was he thinking about blood and paw prints?

Steve's stomach gave a rumble and he glanced down, uninjured hand already rubbing at the exposed flesh. Maybe a sandwich? Mmm…sandwich. Tuna salad? No, too much mayo. He could go out a catch a fish? Maybe grill it?

Steve paused as a little voice sounded in his head telling him he was still too drugged up to safely go swimming without someone to watch over him. Sighing at the loss of freshly grill fish Steve started back up the stairs, promising himself he would have some fish tomorrow.

He stumbled into his childhood room, momentarily frozen as he realized it looked just the same as it had the day he left. There was the corkboard above his desk filled to overflowing with photos of his friends, a couple newspaper clippings about his games and the family portrait his Mother had demanded that last Christmas. His shelf still had some of his chemistry books on it, shoved hastily between sports trophies and old jars of Sex Wax.

There were posters of bands he hadn't listened to in over a decade, torn out pictures from magazines of various celebrities he had had crushes on as a teen, surfing pictures and even still the old calendar Mary had gotten him that was filled with pictures of famous surfers out at the Pipeline.

The whole room felt like some kind of time capsule, preserving the memory of a boy who had died with his Mother. Steve closed his eyes, body swaying from the force of his emotions. Let out a shaky breath he shook away the memories crowded in on the edges of his sanity. He hadn't slept in what felt like days, weeks maybe and there was a voice that sounded too much like his new partner berating him in his own head, telling him to strip and sleep.

Sleep. Yeah, he would sleep now and worry about everything else tomorrow.

Kicking off his cargos and his boxer briefs, Steve crawled up onto the bed, almost collapsing across it as darkness edged in around him. With a last long sigh sleep welcomed him into her embrace.

Minutes passed slowly into hours. Outside the window the dark veil of night lifted slowly into a rosy dawn.

Steve knew someone was wrong even while the dreams slowly disappeared from his mind like a fading morning mist. His chest felt heavy. Something, someone was there pressing down on him, pressing him into the mattress, stealing his breath from him. Some part of his mind that remembered all the ghost stories his Mother had told him as a child shivered awake inside, remembering the tales of the ghosts that haunted Hawaiian firemen and police, the choking ghost. Panic bubbled up inside him. It felt like there was a grown man sitting on his chest. It was hard to breath. Something else moved through the room, out from whatever was pressing down on his. It moved over his flesh like the touch of ghostly fingers or the shadow of a large serpent, rolling and sliding over and threw him.

Eyes snapping open, Steve gasped and jerked himself to the side, tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor. There was a loud yowl followed by a heavy thump on the other side of the bed. Breathe still coming in wheezing gasps; Steve quickly let his gaze take in the room, looking for his gun or some other weapon to defend himself from his attacker. Cursing himself Steve glared at the sight of his cargo pants on the other side of the room, by the door. Peaking out from under the torn and stained pants was his gun, too far away to reach.

There was another angry sounding hiss from the other side of the bed. Steve took a deep breath to calm himself down, focusing on the training he had spent years perfecting. His enemy was as of yet unidentified, but they like him would have to get up from the floor to get a clear line of sight on him. It gave him a chance. A small window of opportunity that he might be able to use.

Steve scooted back further from the bed, pausing as he felt his hand brush against something heavy. Looking down from the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of one of his old trophies that must have been knocked off one of the shelves at some point and never put back in place. Taking it in hand he slowly got to his knees raising himself into a crouching position just in time to catch sight of a sudden blur of movement from the other side of the bed. Raising his weapon Steve jumped to his feet at the same time the large cat, Danny's cat, landed on the bed. It stood there on his bed staring at him for a moment before it seemed to decide he was of no consequence, sitting down and beginning the process of washing itself, tongue moving in unhurried swipes down it's side, while Steve just stared.

The trophy dropped out of his grasp, thunking heavily on the floor as Steve raised his hands up to press against his eyes.


End file.
